This Has Been Corrections
by mcorbettd
Summary: Night Vale is to host the next world meeting. None of the Nations were aware of this fact.
1. Chapter One: Night Vale International

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia or welcome to Night Vale

 _"Good evening, dear listeners. Today I have some exciting news! The tarantula occupation of Night Vale High School has finally been resolved. Reports indicate the school council agreed to meet the head tarantula, recognizable by their fashionable and revolutionary red beret, in order to go over their list of demands, but when the tarantula and their posse of advisors came out to negotiate, the omnipotent Glow Cloud flashed a bright vertigo of colors and immediately struck them into a paralyzingly fear they have yet to recover from. Authorities believe the spiders will be plagued by horrifying, immobilizing visions for the rest of time. The Night Vale Museum of Modern Art is already planning to incorporate them as part of their next special exhibit: Paralyzing Terror. Meanwhile, the rest of the arachnids have fled the school and are now hiding under your bed._

 _"Old Woman Josie claims the angels have reviewed an angelic plot to her. Several strangers have arrived in town today. The angels have plans for them. They are to be our salvation._

 _"Now, I don't need to tell you listeners that there is no such thing as angels. And even if there were, what would we need salvation from? Everything in Night Vale is perfectly fine."_

Arthur Kirkland liked to think he wasn't the type to be caught off guard easily. After all, he'd been around for a long time. He'd been through countless wars. He'd seen the irreversible road of "progress". Hell, he regularly conversed with faeries the rest of the world couldn't even see. No, Arthur was not the type of person to be easily caught off guard.

He was, however, somewhat perturbed to hear the pilot clearly announcing, "Welcome to Night Vale."

Though shocked, Arthur did not lose his gentleman composure for even a moment as he turned to his seat mate and asked, "Where the bleeding fuck is Night Vale?"

His seat mate was no help, as they were frantically scanning their plane ticket and whimpering. Amateurs, Arthur thought with no small amount of scorn.

This did prompt him to check his own ticket and huh, would you look at that? The ticket now clearly said, "DESTINATION: NIGHT VALE, -, USA," when an hour ago the destination had been Venice.

Arthur curled his lips in distaste and dug in his backpack to find his mobile. Once found, he quickly pulled up a certain contact and called. It went straight to voice mail.

"Alfred," he hissed, "I don't know how or what sort of game you're pulling here, and I don't want to know. For the last time, just because you're upset, doesn't mean you get to abduct me for, and I quote, 'shenanigans'. Especially when we have an important meeting to get to! Maybe this time, I'll make you explain to Ludwig why we are late, hmm?"

Satisfied the threat would get through to the pigheaded nation, Arthur got up and made his way to the front of the plane, fully prepared to explain to the pilot exactly why he needed to forget whatever bribes or threats Alfred had given him and take them straight to Venice, when he froze.

At first, the nation had thought it merely good fortune no flight attendant had tried to stop him from entering the cockpit but now he saw that was not the case, because several of them were staring in horror at the pilot, and Arthur could see why. His nose was dripping onto the floor. Not like he had a runny nose, understand, but like the nose itself was melting and running down his face. Indeed, his whole face was starting to melt, the cheekbones peeling down to reveal the fat and muscle beneath, his eyebrows merging with his eyes, and all of it running down into his mouth, which was opening and closing mechanically, muttering something. Arthur, unable to help himself, stepped closer in order to hear, somehow clearly given the prominent lack of lips, the man say, "Worms worms worms worms," over and over again.

And for the first time in a long time, Arthur Kirkland felt caught off guard.

AN: I'm sorry. For what you ask, well the fact this exists for one. That it's so short for another. But it's three in the morning and I want to die so here you go.


	2. Chapter Two: Erika

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Welcome to Night Vale. If I did, I would not live in the basement of someone I hold in contempt. So you know, there's that.

 _"... and they could not stop the bleeding._

 _"Listeners, there has been an incident at Night Vale International today. On a chartered flight from Heathrow Airport, several of the passengers, including the pilot, suffered an unfortunate fate: their faces melted off the brittle shell that protects the flicker of flame that is our conscious existence in this peril-filled hellscape of thinly encrusted, molten rock hurtling through time and space at unimaginable speeds. When interrogated by the Sheriff's Secret Police, the flight attendants and other passengers would only repeatedly ask, "Where is Night Vale? What is this place? How do we get home?" Several of them were then taken to the abandoned mine shaft outside of town for indefinite detention when it was revealed they had several contraband materials, including: pencils, notebook paper, a copy of Herman Melville's Moby Dick, and one container of Bubblicious Gum._

 _"And now, traffic."_

"And what is your experience with Black Magic?" asked the man with a traffic cone on his head.

Arthur sputtered, for one bizarre moment considering answering truthfully, but then he remembered the last time someone had asked him that and he'd ended up at the stake. Burn me once, as the saying goes. "None!" he lied. "And I demand to speak to an actual officer! A man is dead! This is not the time for, well, whatever it is you think you're doing!"

The man, who Arthur now noted was wearing a felt mustache, scowled. "I am an actual officer!" he insisted. "In fact, I'm the Sheriff of the Secret Police!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "If you were actually the 'Secret Police' then why would you have told me that? You're not exactly 'secret' if you go around telling everyone you are!"

This seemed to stump the man, as if the thought had genuinely never occurred to him. He gaped at Arthur. "My entire life has been a lie," he whispered.

Arthur strode away, furious and intent on finding a real officer. "Excuse me," he asked an older woman who had been standing nearby. When she turned to him, he took a startled step back. Her eyes held the paradoxical young and ancient gaze of a Nation, and yet everything else about her was definitely human. Arthur morbidly wondered if her eyes had been stolen, but that was ridiculous.

"Yes, dear?" she asked in a surprisingly firm and youthful voice for her age.

"Ah, well, could you direct me to the police station? It's a bit of an emergency."

"I could," she nodded, "but the sheriff is right over there. He's the one with a traffic cone on his head."

Arthur could have punched her.

An hour later found Arthur sitting on the curb outside the airport. He'd tried unsuccessfully to charter a flight to his original destination but had only been met with blank stares.

"Venice? Is that near Francia?"

"No, it's in Italy. And it's pronounced Frah-nce."

"Itolly?"

Arthur had known that geographic knowledge in the States was abysmal, but this was frankly just ridiculous.

"Les sourcils! Et ici je me croyais seul dans ce lieu désolé!"

"Oh fuck me," Arthur swore just as Francis Bonnefoy came into view. "And here I thought I was already in hell. The universe just has to get its jollies by fucking me over, doesn't it?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Anglais," Francis scolded. He flicked his hand over his shoulder as if pushing his hair back, letting his obsidian cufflinks glimmer in the desert sun. A superfluous move, Arthur noted, given that his hair was pulled back with an elastic band. He felt like he might be sick.

"Leave me alone, crapaud," he snarled.

Francis clasped at his heart as if mortally wounded. "Alas, I see our time apart has done little to fix your abhorrent manners."

"And I see it has done little to fix your abhorrent features."

Francis curled his lip in distaste. "And for a moment I was actually excited to see you."

Arthur smirked.

At that moment, a cab finally pulled up. Hoping to be able to distance himself from the other country, Arthur pulled open the cab door and came to an immediate halt. What he had assumed to be a regular human driver was actually some sort of being. Arthur could not adequately describe what he was seeing because he could not focus on more than one aspect of the creature at time. If pressed, he could only say that they were made of a lot of angles and more than one pair of eyes.

"Hello," the being spoke, "my name is Erika. Where to next, Mr. Kirkland?"

AN: happy Valentine's Day, you filthy animals. Since I'm some sort of loser with nothing to do this holiday other than sulk in the basement where I currently reside, you guys get another chapter of this garbage. Congrats, I guess. To those who favorited and followed, I can only ask, "why". And also thank you in believing in this thing even though I'm not entirely sure the plot is going. It's probably going to come out something like the unholy combination of John Dies at the End and Welcome to Night Vale weirdness. So if you're into that stick around. If not, do whatever the fuck you want, I'm not your mom.


End file.
